The Chicken Pox
by IchatrinaObsessedSleepyGirl
Summary: Ichabod gets the chicken pox. one-shot


**I got this idea from another story I wrote and couldn't resist expanding it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)**

Dust swirled about as a wagon rolled by him, the small particles hitting his eyes. Perfect. Another thing that was attacking his body. It seemed everything was out to grate his nerves this day. As he made his way up the steps to the infirmary, he stopped a moment to scratch at his neck, but it seemed no matter how hard he scratched, the annoying itch would not leave him. Huffing, he entered the door and looked about for his wife. There weren't many people in need of healing today it seemed, except of course, him. Why these sorts of things always had to happen to him was unfathomable. Not seeing her right off, he walked further into the building and searched for her with no luck. Nearly ready to begin shouting for her, he noticed her in the back of the building speaking with another nurse. Doing his best to ignore his body's bothersome irritation, he moved in her direction at a brisk pace. Finally finding himself within her proximity, she noticed him and turned with a smile.

"Ichabod, this is a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

Coming to a stop in front of her, he darted a glance at the other nurse, Charlotte, if he remembered correctly, though he hadn't the patience to actually give it thought, and gave a nod and small smile.

"Madam."

She smiled. "Mr. Crane."

He shot an uncomfortable look at Katrina for a moment and found her gazing at him with a small frown, before turning back to Charlotte with the most apologetic smile he could muster. Reaching up to once again scratch at his neck, he spoke. "If you wouldn't mind too much, might I have a moment with my wife? I assure you, it'll just be a moment."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow as she nodded. "Of course," she said, before looking back to Katrina. "I'll just go check on Mr. Carter."

Once the woman was out of earshot, Ichabod turned to Katrina, completely desperate and quite sure he was going mad.

"I need you."

Her frown deepened as she looked him over. "What's the matter with you?" She stepped forward to grab the hand at his neck. "And why are you scratching at your neck so violently? Are you ill?"

Rolling his eyes, he pulled back the collar of his shirt to show her his neck. "This is why I'm here. I can't stop. I feel as though my entire body is falling apart. _Everything_ itches!"

She raised an eyebrow at his tone before pulling on his hand and leading him until they reached the last bed, farthest from everyone else. As he sat down, she lifted his shirt to examine him.

"Ichabod..."

Her face broke into yet another frown, causing him to panic slightly.

"What? What is it?"

She glanced up at him. "Have you ever had the chicken pox?"

Dread filled him. "No," he said slowly. "Why?"

A smile crept into her features. "Because, my love, that's what you have."

He shook his head vehemently. "No. It must be something else." His mind searched for a solution. "A rash of some sort."

Unceremoniously dropping his shirt, she placed her hands on her hips. "It's the chicken pox."

Frustrated, he reached behind his back to scratch at the most irritating itch of the moment. "No, it's _not_. I'm not a child, Katrina."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," she said in a falsely surprised tone before grabbing his hand. "Stop scratching. You'll scar."

"Well, then, do something!" he bit out, throwing his hands up. "Aren't you supposed to be running about caring for your patients? I'm your patient in dire need of care. Care for me!"

With a roll of her eyes, she turned and walked away from him. Thoroughly annoyed, he jumped up and followed her as she began speaking with Charlotte again.

"Katrina," he said in a quite near to whining voice.

She spun to him, eyes narrowed, as Charlotte giggled lightly. "Must you always be so impatient? I was just telling Charlotte that I have to leave to take you home."

Having the decency to look slightly ashamed, he spoke. "Oh, you were?"

Her barely contained laugh did not escape him. "Yes, my love. I couldn't possibly leave you alone to face this horrible ailment on your own."

Huffing, he turned on his heel and headed for the door without another word. As he reached the dusty street once more, he noticed her fall in to step beside him and place her had in his.

"Ichabod-"

He abruptly stopped and turned to her, mustering a false sense of confidence on his face. "Don't worry yourself over me, Katrina. I can take care of myself just fine."

Her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms, taking on a defiant stance. "Very well. Go on then. Take care of yourself."

In a battle of wills over who could maintain their glare the longest, Ichabod rolled his eyes and resumed his walk. He wasn't normally the type to give in when it came to willpower, but his itching was getting the best of him and his wife had an uncanny ability to make him feel foolish as she usually won at everything. Alone, he made his way toward his home, scratching as he went.

* * *

As he entered his house, he made for the kitchen and looked about for something that could possibly stop the blasted itching.. With a sigh and a long scratch to his shoulder, he released a heavy breath, fully resigned to the fact that he had no idea what to use on the angry red marks covering his body. Perfect, now his bloody pride was going to be the only thing to keep him company as he itched himself into a frenzy. Sinking to a chair, he used the table as a scratcher as he slid his arms back and forth over the edge.

"I see you're doing well on your own."

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he shot out of the chair and spun to face her. "How...? I didn't hear you come in."

She rolled her eyes and made her way across the room to the pantry. "Not everyone clonks about like you do, Ichabod."

Thoroughly ruffled, Ichabod continued to scratch as she pulled various items out and began mixing them together.

"It's not as if I spend a great amount of time with children. How on earth did I contract this?"

She glanced at him briefly before returning to her mixing. "When you came to visit me a couple of weeks ago, there may have been a boy at the infirmary that may have possibly had the virus."

As she was currently avoiding his eyes, he decided to bore a hole into the back of her head. "A boy may have had the virus? _May_?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

"So this is _your_ fault, then?"

"Ichabod," she said with a laugh. "I didn't make you come to the infirmary." She turned to him. "As I recall, you came of your own free will, even after I'd told you repeatedly that it's not safe."

Yes, she had go on and on about it after they'd first married. Her seemingly unending speech was burned into his brain. He appreciated her concern, of course, but his desire to be near her had overruled her warnings of illnesses he could fall prey to there.

Picking up the bowl she'd been working on, she sat in the chair beside him and fixed him with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Take off your clothes."

Eyebrows shooting up, he stared at her. When he didn't move, she laughed again. "Don't tell me you're suddenly shy, my love."

He tilted his head. "No. It's just that when you usually say that, I'm normally in a much better mood."

A smirk crept into her features and she held up the ointment. "Well, if you ever want to hear me say those words in _that_ tone again, you'd better start removing your clothing."

With a sigh, he stood and did as she requested. Once his clothing was fully removed, she began to place the ointment over all the spots covering his body. When her hand came into contact with his thigh, he jerked, causing her to glance up at him with a frown. "Did I hurt you?"

Keeping his eyes away from hers and firmly planted on the wall, he sucked in a shaky breath. "No."

"Are you sure?"

The way she said it left no room to doubt her knowledge of her affect on him. Rolling his eyes, he glanced at her quickly, then away once more as he noticed her staring at him.

"Katrina, can you please hurry so I can dress?"

Her touch was bringing out unavoidable changes in his body and he wasn't in the proper state to fulfill any desires he knew would soon overwhelm him.

"I'm done," she said as she grabbed his arm and pulled herself up.

"Thank heavens," he muttered under his breath as he began pulling his clothing back on, but was interrupted as she pushed his hands away and began buttoning his trousers herself.

"You know," she said, as her hands expertly worked his buttons through the openings. "You can't hide anything from me."

As she finished, her eyes crept to his, glinting with mirth.

"You're enjoying this entirely too much, Katrina."

She shrugged. "Perhaps."

Bending down, she picked up his shirt and held it open for him to slide into. Once he had it on, she began with the buttons on it as well.

"I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself."

"As capable as you were at taking care of yourself?"

He fixed her with narrowed eyes. Her ability to get under his skin unnerved him. She was too good at it. As she slid the last button into place, she patted his chest with a smile and exited the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" he called after her as he followed her into the sitting room.

"I need to go take care of a few things in town."

He felt like falling down in a tantrum. "You can't."

With a frown, she turned to him. "Why ever not?"

"Because..." he stammered, doing his best to search his mind for a legitimate reason. "I-" He sighed. "Just stay with me. Please."

She stared at him a moment in confusion before a knowing expression filled her features. "You want me to sit and hold your hand, don't you?"

"No," he said unconvincingly. "I simply want...to spend some time with my wife. Is that so terrible of me?"

She didn't appear very moved by his words and he felt his heart sink slightly when she walked to the open door. However, when she pushed it closed and turned back to him with a barely contained smile and shake of her head, he sighed in relief.

"You are going to be the death of me, Ichabod Crane." Moving to stand in front of him, she took his hand in her own. "Don't think this is going to work every time."

Knowing he shouldn't, but unable to stop himself, he smirked. "But it always does. You can't resist me."

Her jaw flexed as her eyes darted over his face and she brought a hand up to touch one of his spots. "Yes, my love, you're completely irresistible at the moment."

* * *

"Be still."

"I can't. It itches."

A light chuckle escaped her causing him to glare.

"This is_ not_ funny, Katrina."

He watched as she bit her lip in an attempt to stop herself, but it did no good.

"Katrina! This is one of the most horrible experiences of my life and you're laughing at me!"

With wide eyes, she continued chuckling. "I'm sorry, but you're acting worse than one of the children at the infirmary."

Rolling his eyes, he turned onto his back and itched himself against the sheets. "Well, I'm not one of the children, so perhaps it's affecting me differently."

Her laugh became pure giggles as she glanced over at him. Groaning, he reached up to scratch his face, but she practically leapt toward him, her hands grabbing his.

"Katrina..."

He kicked his legs about until all the blankets were off him.

"You can't scratch your face. You know I only married you for your handsome face. What will I do if you ruin it?"

"You're supposed to be a nurse. Do something to fix this!"

She maneuvered to hover over him, firmly pinning him to the bed. "My love, it's chicken pox. You're simply going to have to wait it out. I've already done everything I can for you."

"I can't," he said, jerking again as he arched his head back against the pillow to get at an itch on his cheek.

"I don't understand how you've never gotten this before. Most people have them at a young age."

His face whirled back to hers causing her to lean away from him to avoid being hit. "Well, I'm not most people! Apparently, someone out there hates me."

She chuckled again, inciting another groan from him. "Do something!"

Whining was beneath him, this he knew, but at this moment, he didn't care. He simply wanted the itching to stop. It was driving him mad.

Sighing, she released him and settled back in her place. "There's nothing more to do."

He rolled toward her and itched his face against the pillow as she picked her book back up. Allowing an incredulous look to cross his face, he lifted his head.

"You're going to ignore me now?"

Not looking at him, she flipped the page. "Yes."

"I'm in _pain_ and you're ignoring me?"

She shrugged with an innocent smile."I could read to you, if you like."

With a roll of his eyes, he flipped over to place his back to her. A few moments of silence passed before he huffed and flipped back over to burrow into her side."I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing."

As he threw an arm and leg over her, she chuckled. "You do know that no matter how hard you try, you can't give this to me, right? I had it as a girl."

He pressed even further into her. "I don't know what you're talking about. What I do know is that if you had this,_ I_ would take care of you."

An exasperated breath left her. "And I haven't been caring for you?"

He rocked his head from side to side as if thinking about it. With a raised eyebrow, she caught his chin with her free hand.

"While you're considering your answer, keep in mind that you'll have this for a few more days, and I have quite a few important places that I was supposed to be at in that time."

Realizing he hadn't thought that far ahead, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Have I mentioned today how beautiful you are? And kind? And intelligent? And how much I completely adore you?"

"I'm not sure," she said as she squinted her eyes as if searching her memory. "Perhaps you should grovel a bit more to help me remember."

Placing a light kiss to her lips, he whispered. "Please read to me, Katrina?"

She smiled. "I suppose."

With a triumphant grin, he burrowed his face into her neck to scratch at his nose causing her to chuckle. As her hand began rubbing up and down his back, she cleared her throat. "Alright, where was I...?"


End file.
